You Keep Going, Girl!

In all the hurly-burly of America's best political and economic year ever, let's not forget about the lonely struggles of loyal reader Sarah P. of Wasilla, Alaska, who continues to be pestered by haters who are all like "ethics, laws, blah, blah, blah" when she's all like "Obama, terrorist, nig-- uh, terrorist, America, rah, rah, rah!"

America needs more rah-rah and less blah-blah, my friends. More rah, less blah. That's change you can trust.

Anyhow, the legal midgets in the Alaska Senate concluded that Sarah P. broke state ethics law by trying to get some guy fired just because he was like a total douche-cob to her sister Molly. First, like why even be governor if you can't shitcan guys who divorce your sister? Second, haven't people in Alaska heard about the "tainted investigation" defense, in which a defendant must be found innocent if he or she says that the prosecutor doesn't love him or her enough to be objective?

Fortunately, Sarah P. and her crack legal team know have been able to fall back on the "Nuh Uh" defense. The Nuh Uh defense was established by landmark Fantasy Court decisions in Bush v. National Intelligence Estimate and Bush v. Climate Change, in which Fantasy Court judges ruled that official or legal findings must be declared null and void if the person inconvenienced by them pinky-swears that those findings seriously didn't happen and then refuses to talk about the findings ever again (starts about 1:20):



As always, we'll keep you updated like all get-out on this one, America.

Still Working the Taint

Well, my friends, I'm delighted to report that the party of law and order rides again and that a new deputy has joined the posse.

Loyal reader Sarah P. of Wasilla, Alaska has been joined by her husband Todd in her brave effort to defend her constitutional right not to answer questions if she doesn't like the official investigator asking them.

Or, in this case, their constitutional right to ignore an Alaska state senate subpoena.

Well, you go, Todd and Sarah! And you tell that mean ol' Alaska Republican senate president that she's a super-big jerk for sending all those subpoenas that everybody's ignoring.

Amateur Legal Advice for Corrupt Politicians

So occasionally in this space I like to offer amateur legal advice.

Today's Tip: Working the Taint
My friends, you don't have to answer prosecutors' or police officers' questions if you think the people asking them might not be on your side. This is called the "tainted investigation" theory, and is based in landmark cases Hubris v. Juris (1943) and Self v. System (1973), which established that any bastard who would dare to question you doesn't deserve a goddamn answer other than "go screw, bucko."

Thanks to loyal reader Sarah P. from Wasilla, Alaska for reminding us of the tainted investigation immunity. Sarah, do be sure to keep us updated on how you're doing with your invocation of the TI immunity.

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Amateur Legal Advice for Drug Dealers

So Mike and I agree that prisoner detention at Guantanamo will probably never get the swift attention it deserves and that those responsible for making it a legal and moral morass will never get the punishment they deserve. Robert Gates, the new Defense Secretary, reportedly has wanted to close it since before coming into office, and if the Defense Secretary can't or won't close it, then there's not much chance anybody else will.

Don't worry. This isn't another attack on torture at Guantanamo. (Lord knows we need more of those, but lord knows that nobody with an ounce of influence seems to listen to them or to act on them.) It is, instead, a gradual build-up to an innovative but potentially useful defense for drug dealers, arms dealers, and others who in the discharge of their professional duties may run afoul of the authorities.

Guantanamo as a detention facility exists because the courts have ruled that it's not on US soil, and therefore US legal protections don't apply to inmates held there. I don't buy that for a second. The Guantanamo Naval Base is a heavily fortified military facility that has been under continuous American control since 1903. If something becomes American soil because Americans have worked on it, lived on it, and defended it for generations, then Guantanamo has a better claim to being US soil than do big parts of my home state of Illinois and most of Alaska.

The rationale for saying that Guantanamo isn't US soil is that, technically, we've been leasing it from the Cuban government since 1903. So we're renters, not owners.

But this raises a big set of questions: if US law doesn't apply because Guantanamo isn't the US, then whose law should? Well, for military personnel, I assume it should be the Uniform Code of Military Justice, which applies to all American soldiers wherever they're stationed. But what about non-military personnel--the detainees, the Cuban asylum-seekers who live and even work on the base? Well, they're not on American soil, so it can't be US law. They're not in the US military, so it can't be the Uniform Code. But they are on Cuban soil, so it must be Cuban law. Problem solved.

Of course, that doesn't solve the problem at all. If civilians on the naval base are subject to Cuban law, then we should turn over the al-Qaeda prisoners, the "al-Qaeda" prisoners, and the asylum-seekers to Cuban courts. ("Thank you for seeking asylum from Cuba in Cuba. Your petition for political asylum will be heard by Castro's great-nephew, who will determine whether you will be granted asylum in Cuba or instead deported back to Cuba.")

Since that's clearly impossible, we're back to the Kafkaesque legal fiction that Guantanamo is under US control by force and by treaty but not part of the US. Because, see, we're tenants, not owners.

As bizarre and ludicrous as that may be, it has a potential upside for criminals who get a little sloppy prior to the issuance of a search warrant:

POLICE: We've got you dead to rights, O'Shea. Twenty-three, two-kilo bricks of Oregon's finest pot. Six kilos of uncut coke. Two crates of Chinese AK-47 knockoffs with matching crates of cop-killer bullets. Two shoulder-mounted RPG launchers. And three kilos of weapons-grade plutonium. You're gonna be serving ten consecutive life sentences.
O'SHEA: That' ain't my stuff, man.
POLICE: What are you talking about? We found them in your apartment, badly hidden in your bedroom closet under back issues of Better Housekeeping with your name on all the mailing labels. The bullets were wrapped in a blanket that has your name and "Camp Adventure, 1979" embroidered on it.
O'SHEA: Sure. That's where you found them. In my apartment.
POLICE: So you admit it?
O'SHEA: In my rented apartment. Which, of course, means it's not mine. Anything you find in my rented apartment doesn't belong to me or to my landlord.
POLICE: So who does it belong to, O'Shea?
O'SHEA: I dunno. Cuba?
POLICE: Right then. Men, we're gonna make a little trip to Havana, to arrest Fidel Castro.